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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26080354">The Sage and The God</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pratigyakrishnaki/pseuds/Pratigyakrishnaki'>Pratigyakrishnaki</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hindu Religions &amp; Lore, Mahabharata - Vyasa, महाभारत | Mahabharat (TV 2013)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ganesha's a badass, Vyas too is a badass, erm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 02:54:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>565</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26080354</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pratigyakrishnaki/pseuds/Pratigyakrishnaki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mahabharat was written unconventionally, according to lore. This is my take!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Hindu Mythology Event</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Sage and The God</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the events reached their end, nothing remained save a sage, a young king and the story of his ancestry. It took no less than a second to convince the sage that the story should be saved as history turned myth, and he had smiled plainly; he himself had a part to play in turn of events that had occurred. He had nodded gently, raising his palm to bless the young king, Parikshit of the Kuru dynasty and vanished into the forest alone. He had sat in solitude for a long while, perplexed at the feat before him: he could dictate, but there was no one who could write as fast as he spoke. Well, he mused, no <em>man</em>.</p>
<p>He had closed his eyes and barely begun to graze the idea of the god: his wise slanted eyes, his ears wide and fanlike, his nose, nay his trunk, curling gently around the modaks in his hand. The sage thought of the god’s two long tusks, ivory white, and his vast rotund belly resting as he sat gracefully, his mouse beside him. The sage had barely even begun to utter the mantra, tongue just beginning to curl with the word “G-“ and he heard a chuckle.</p>
<p>The sage opened his eyes, and in them was a light of wonder, of admiration as he gazed at the god, bowing deeply. The god seemed young for being ageless; his eyes a kaleidoscope of warm emotions: wisdom, love, care, and a hint of mischief. He had come quickly, almost as if he were eager to play a game. </p>
<p>The god had smiled at the sage’s request, agreeing within moments. From then on, everything was ready in the blink of an eye, the god ready with a quill and the sage across him ready to speak. As quill hovered above papyrus, just a hairs breadth away, the god had looked up, and set forth a condition.</p>
<p>“Oh sage, I will not stop. Should your dictation freeze, even for a moment, I will be gone, and the story... your <em>itihasa</em>, will remain unfinished forever.”</p>
<p>There was a beat, and a brief wash of anxiety in the sage’s eyes, and then it was gone as quickly as it had come. “Agreed.”</p>
<p>They sat staring at each other, until the god once again lowered his head, “I am ready.” And the sage began.</p>
<p>“Shree Ganeshaya Namah...” the god’s lips quirked into a knowing smirk, “Great sage, I have already blessed it. Shall we begin?” He put pen to paper, quill to papyrus, and they were off.</p>
<p>At one point, all quills had been exhausted, splintered to pieces, but the story not even half way finished. Rumor has it that the god hadn’t hesitated, not one beat. He had simply reached up to his left tusk and yanked, snapping it cleanly in half, and began scribbling away with it as a makeshift. The sage didn’t falter, and nor did the god, scribing away, not a single grammatical error.</p>
<p>They sat for eons, the revered sage Vyasa and the great god Ganesha, writing ten verses, ten hundred verses, ten thousand verses, never pausing, never stopping until finally, the world was gifted with the full work. It was called Jaya at first, but with a slight grin Ganesha changed it. It would be named after the country of its birth. It would be named the <strong>Mahabharata</strong>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let me know what you think!<br/>Wow I'm writing so much lately! I'm kind of loving it!<br/>If you find my tumblr, I actually made a moodboard (well, two moodboards) for this story!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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